


Five Times Patrick Jane was reckless and one time he wasn't

by Gugelhupf



Category: The Mentalist
Genre: F/M, Friendship, Gen, Jane Pain, Jane Whump, Jisbon in later Chapters, Patrick being an idiot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-27
Updated: 2016-12-27
Packaged: 2018-09-12 16:49:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9081148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gugelhupf/pseuds/Gugelhupf
Summary: Pretty much what it says in the title. Jane doesn't seem to care about his wellbeing at all until...





	

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing! If I did own these characters, you'd be watching this on television.

Jane stared at Marc Ziller intensely. The guy was muscle-y and full of tattoos, wearing a suit and tie - he looked a bit like a rogue banker. Cho and him had paid him a visit in his workshop, an obvious front for a drug dealing business. He was the known leader of a local gang but his clean work had ensued that nothing could be traced back to him or his friends.

"As I said, I am very sad that she's dead," he repeated with an indifferent voice.

"You know what I think?", Jane asked. Before the suspect could tell him that, no, he did not want to hear that evidently insane cop's thoughts, he continued. "I think she's been sleeping around. Your own girlfriend was turning you into a joke in front of the whole gang. Let's be honest here: there's hardly anyone who she hasn't been sleeping with. You must be pretty bad in bed. Or boring."

That seemed to be a touchy subject. He squirmed while trying to look insulted. Jane's face lit up.

"Ooh, you're impotent, aren't you? Nothing going on down there, eh?"

Before Cho could even make Jane shut up or calm down the agitated suspect, Ziller grabbed a nearby hammer and swung for Jane. Luckily, his reflexes saved him - he dodged it, crouching down quickly. Unfortunately, that meant that his left temple was at the same level as Ziller's knee. The angry man seemed to realize just that in time to give Jane's head a forceful kick. The consultant went down, smacking his head on the stone floor.

Blackness. Then, a terrible ringing sound in his head. The next thing that registered was pain. In both his temples there seemed to be knives, stabbing him in a synchronized rhythm. Bum-Bumm Bum-Bumm Bum-Bumm. For some reason, he could hear that rhythm. Was it coming from his chest? Had he swallowed a drum? Odd. Suddenly, Patrick realised that there were other noises. Someone calling his name. Shaking his shoulder. Who was that? Why did they sound so urgent? Only then, it occured to Patrick to open his eyes. He instantly regretted that move, however small and insignificant it might have seemed to an observer. His vision was flooded by brightness which in turn made his head hurt even worse than before. He closed them tightly again. It was then that he also felt nausea slam into him full force. Still lying on his back, he started gagging. A small voice inside his head told him that it wasn't a very good idea but the agony in his head, amplified by the cramping in his stomach which made his whole body clench, and some weird fatigue prevented him from moving.

Funnily enough, the small voice seemed to be in someone else's head, too. And it seemed to be a but louder there, because he felt himself be turned to his side and lifted up slightly. He lost his last meal (eggs, toast and tea) and felt himself being dragged away from his puddle of vomit before he was lowered onto the ground again.

"V'ry considr'te," he heard someone slur. Odd voice they had. It made his chest vibrate. 

"Jane. Look at me." A calm voice in front of him. He forced his eyes open again. The light was a little less terrible this time and Jane could make out a blurry figure in front of him.  
"Good. Stay with me. Ambulance is on it's way."

Patrick could focus enough to recognise Cho next to him. Ziller was handcuffed to a table and seemed to be satisfied with himself. Smug bastard.

A few days later, Jane strolled into the bullpen, hiding a lingering but increasingly weakening headache behind a beaming smile.

Lisbon suddenly had a mischievous look in her eyes.

"Welcome back, Jane. By the way, Ziller has an alibi."

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a review. That keeps me posting.


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